Fatal Bloodline: The Heiress's Revenge

After I buried my third set of foster parents, the math was simple. I was cursed. Walking collateral damage. Breathing only guaranteed more funerals.

So when my biological parents finally tracked me down, my lungs seized with pure, suffocating dread. Day one in their pristine mansion, the battle lines were already drawn.

They formed a united wall behind Vivienne, their precious adopted daughter. The verdict was unanimous: I was the street rat who stole her diamond bracelet.

Looking at their cold, disgusted faces, my shoulders actually dropped. Good. They hated me. I couldn't ruin people who didn't love me.

Before the lecture could continue, I snatched the glittering metal from the coffee table. I shoved it to the back of my throat and swallowed hard.

The jagged diamonds scraped down my esophagus. Before gravity could finish the job, a fist slammed into my gut. Acid and blood rushed up my throat.

I doubled over, gagging until the metal clattered onto the hardwood floor. Pierce stood over me.

His jaw ticked, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he stared down at the mess. "Street trash always plays these cheap mind games." He pointed at the spitcovered diamonds. "You really think a pathetic stunt like this is gonna win you our pity?" He leaned closer. "People who actually want to die don't do it with an audience." I wiped the bile from my chin, staring blankly at the floor.

He made a fair point. The second the bedroom door clicked shut behind them, I went to work. I dragged a heavy velvet chair to the center of the room.

I knotted the silk bedsheets over the reinforced ceiling fixture. No hesitation. No audience. I didn't expect Pierce to storm back in to deliver the rest of his warning.

The heavy door shoved open. He stopped dead in the frame. This time, the sneer dropped from his face.

Chapter 1 The crushing weight around my windpipe was the last thing I remembered before the blackness took over.

But the sterile smell of bleach and the steady beep of a heart monitor dragged me back. I opened my eyes. I was still breathing.

Before the blur even faded from my vision, Vivienne threw herself at the edge of my hospital bed, her face streaked with perfectly placed tears. "Wren!

It was just a stupid bracelet. If I knew you'd go this far, I never would have exposed you." Warren and Miriam practically tripped over themselves to flank her.

They wrapped their arms around her shaking shoulders, their faces melting into pure, agonizing sympathy. Pierce didn't join the hug.

He stood at the foot of my bed, staring down at me like he’d stepped in something rotten. "Mom, Dad, she's just playing the victim," he scoffed. "She calculated the exact timing.

She knew I’d come back to warn her again, so she staged the whole thing." "Out of all the ways to end it, why pick the slowest one?

She’s just trying to guilttrip us into kicking Vivienne out!" He gestured sharply toward the IV line taped to my hand. His words worked like a charm.

Warren and Miriam exchanged a long, heavy look. I’d only been under their roof for twentyfour hours. There was no bond, no unconditional love waiting for me here.

They were always going to side with the girl they raised. Honestly, they were giving me way too much credit. I was stuck in a barebones guest room. Second floor.

Jumping out the window would have only resulted in a couple of broken legs. Trust me, if I had access to a cleaner exit, I wouldn't have chosen a bedsheet.

Vivienne buried her face in Miriam’s chest, sobbing like she was the one hooked up to the machines. Warren hovered, wringing his hands. "Vivienne, sweetheart, don't be scared.

You are always going to be our daughter. No one is taking your place." Miriam stroked her hair. "Shh, stop crying, baby.

You’re going to give yourself a headache." Watching the three of them huddle together, a dull pressure built behind my eyes. I suddenly wanted to cry, too.

I just thought about my first set of foster parents. They took me in, and I was instantly theirs.

They barely had high school diplomas, but whenever the world came at me, they formed a solid brick wall right in front of me.

Even when I messed up, the scolding happened behind closed doors, never in public.

He worked construction, she took in odd jobs from the neighborhood, and they always looked at me with this quiet guilt, wishing they could give me more.

If some stranger suddenly showed up to claim them, to take away my safe space? I probably would have lost my mind, too.

The cold dampness spreading across my pillowcase was the only proof I was crying. Pierce caught the glint of tears.

He froze for a fraction of a second, but then his jaw hardened, the disgust returning with a vengeance. "Copying her now?

You think squeezing out a few fake tears is going to make us pity you? I see right through your bullshit." I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell him he was wrong.

I didn't want his sister's spot. I didn't want their money. I just wanted to be dead. But when I pushed air up my throat, nothing came out. Just a raw, hollow scrape.

The bedsheet had done some real damage to my vocal cords. I stared blankly at the ceiling. Whatever. But to them, my silence was an admission of guilt.

Warren shook his head, the disappointment rolling off him in waves. "Vivienne might be adopted, but we raised her for twentyfive years.

She is our blood in every way that matters." Miriam grabbed her purse, shooting me one last icy glare. "If you want to stay in this family, you will learn to accept her." They filed out of the room, keeping a protective circle around Vivienne.

I didn't reach out. I didn't feel a single sting of rejection. I just pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my chin. I missed my real parents.

I waited until their footsteps faded entirely down the hall. I ripped the IV from the back of my hand and pushed myself out of the bed.

I pulled the collar of my hospital gown up high, hiding the dark purple bruising wrapping around my neck. Step by step, I navigated the quiet emergency stairwell.

Pierce’s advice echoed in my head. Find a quiet place. Do it without an audience. I pushed open the heavy metal door to the hospital roof. It was completely empty.

The afternoon wind whipped around me as I locked my eyes on the concrete ledge. My chest actually felt light.

I picked up my pace, my bare feet slapping against the gravel roof until I hauled myself onto the edge. Ten stories down. Concrete sidewalk. No room for error this time.

The corners of my mouth pulled up into a genuine smile. Mom, Dad. I'm coming home. Chapter 2 But a split second later, fingers dug into the back of my hospital gown.

A heavy yank ripped me away from the ledge. Someone was screaming my name, the sound muffled over the roaring wind, but my eyes stayed locked on the concrete ten stories down.

My salvation. So close. I thrashed, kicking wildly at the air. Hands grabbed my arms, my waist, hauling my dead weight backward. Failed again.

I lay pinned to the sterile mattress back in the room, staring blindly at the ceiling tiles. Pierce braced his hands on his knees, his chest heaving as he sucked in ragged breaths.

Warren and Miriam stood frozen, the blood completely drained from their faces. For the first time, nobody was hovering over Vivienne.

She stood awkwardly by the door, her nails biting into her palms before she shot me a venomous glare. Twice in one day. Seriously, what was wrong with these people?

Did they get off on doubling back to check on me? Pierce straightened up, his breathing still jagged. "It’s a setup!

A total setup!" He pointed a shaking finger at me. "She knew we were waiting by the stairwell!

She knew we were testing her, so she pulled this stunt just to put on a show!" The sheer absurdity of the claim snapped Miriam out of her shock. Her hand connected with his cheek.

A sharp, echoing slap filled the room. "If we hadn't grabbed her, you wouldn't have a sister right now!" Miriam’s chest heaved. "You think she faked jumping off a tenstory roof?!" Her panicked gaze darted to the open hospital window.

She rushed over, slamming it shut and throwing the deadbolt. We were on the second floor now. A drop from here wouldn't even be fatal.

But her hands were shaking as she swept the entire room, checking every corner, even swapping my glass water pitcher for a flimsy plastic cup.

Miriam opened her mouth to say something else, but Vivienne suddenly buried her face in her hands and bolted for the door. Well, 'bolted' was a strong word.

It was a very slow, dramatic jog. "It's my fault… I should just pack my bags and leave.

Then she wouldn't have to try and kill herself over me…" Terrified she might actually do something rash, Warren and Miriam immediately sprinted after her.

Before disappearing into the hall, Warren barked an order at Pierce to stay behind and keep an eye on me. Forced to play babysitter, Pierce paced at the foot of the bed.

He kept shooting irritated glances toward the hallway. "Why did you even come back?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "The second you stepped foot in this house, everything went to hell." His jaw clenched.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head, agonizing over the fact that his precious Vivienne had cried three times in the last twentyfour hours.

His tone sharpened, turning incredibly bitter. "I heard you bounced around three different foster homes before this." He let out a harsh scoff. "Yeah, I looked them up.

None of them had a happy ending, did they? Honestly, are you just a walking curse?" A violent ringing started in my ears.

The air in the room instantly turned to lead, pressing down on my chest until I couldn't breathe. Ten years old. Screeching tires. Shattered glass. Sixteen years old.

The heavy, sweet stench of a gas leak. Twentysix years old. The sterile hum of dual hospice machines. Three homes. Three funerals. My vision tunneled.

The hollow, gnawing black hole in my stomach expanded, swallowing everything else. I just wanted it all to stop.

Surviving just to watch everyone who loved me get lowered into the dirt—there was no worse hell on earth.

Pierce kept running his mouth, oblivious to the fact that my lungs were seizing. "Let me make this perfectly clear.

I only acknowledge one sister in this house." He leaned over the bed rails. "Wren, as long as you know your place and don't try to compete with Vivienne, you'll live a life those three trashy hick families could never even dream of." He crossed his arms. "Those country bumpkins really messed you up.

Zero class, zero morals.

No wonder you grew up to be such a bitter, scheming piece of work." "Now that you're under our roof, you're going to scrub away all those disgusting habits—" My arm shot out.

My palm cracked against the unbruised side of his face. The smack ricocheted off the hospital walls. He could call me a curse. He could call me trash. I didn't care.

But the second he dragged my parents' names through the mud, he crossed a line he couldn't walk back from.

Chapter 3 Pierce stumbled back, his hand flying to his rapidly reddening cheek. His jaw went slack. "You hit me? I'm your brother!

You're defending those trailer park nobodies over your own flesh and blood?" He wasn't my brother.

My real brother was a twisted mess of metal and bone in a decadeold police report. If he had survived the crash, he’d probably be this tall by now.

He probably would have been loud and annoying, too.

I swallowed against the sandpaper tearing at my throat. "You…" I rasped, forcing the words through the pain. "Are not… my brother.

My brother… was good." I took a jagged breath. "I didn't… want to come back.

You… forced me." After the dirt settled on my third set of parents, I already had the bottle of weed killer picked out.

Then the Lin family's private security dragged me into a black SUV. Refusing didn't work, and honestly, my bones were too tired to fight back.

Watching the people you love die three separate times drains the fight right out of you. I couldn't care less about their generational wealth. Pierce scoffed.

To him, the idea of turning down a trust fund for a dead, bluecollar family was physically impossible. In his mind, this was all just a masterclass in manipulation.

He turned on his heel and marched out of the room. I lay there tracing the cracks in the ceiling until the white noise finally pulled me under. The sleep was fractured.

Six faces flickered through my dreams, their mouths moving in silent panic.

I was suffocating in that space between sleeping and waking until hands clamped onto my shoulders, shaking me violently. Pierce's face loomed over me, completely unhinged.

Within an hour, I was shoved through the double doors of the Lin estate. The mansion was pure chaos.

Vivienne lay tucked under a silk duvet, her face powdered to a sickly, theatrical pale. Before I could process the room, a dress shoe slammed into the back of my knee.

Gravity took over.

I hit the hardwood floor, hard. "This is your fault!" Pierce pointed a shaking finger at me. "Vivienne was already terrified of losing her place here." "You pulling that psychotic suicide stunt pushed her over the edge!

She swallowed pills because of you! Apologize.

Now." Vivienne let out a weak, breathy cough from the pillows. "Don't blame Wren," she whispered. "It's my fault for not being your real daughter.

If I wasn't here, she wouldn't have tried to hurt herself." Miriam's face crumpled. Tears spilled over her mascara.

She knelt down to my level, pleading. "Wren, just say you're sorry. You know she's delicate.

If you don't apologize, she's going to carry this guilt forever." Pierce crossed his arms. "And another thing.

When we introduce you, you're the new livein companion we hired for Vivienne.

I'm not having the whole country club whispering behind her back." Miriam and Warren didn't say a word. Silence was consent.

Pierce rolled his shoulders, shifting his tone to sound like a generous CEO closing a merger. "I'm a reasonable guy.

You swallow your pride, apologize to my sister, and agree to the cover story. In exchange, name your price." The heir to the Lin empire was cutting a check.

He could buy me a penthouse, a Porsche, a vault of diamonds. I didn't want a dime. Watching my blank expression, Pierce's patience snapped.

He snatched a plastic bottle from the nightstand and hurled it at my face. "Who the hell do you think you are? Vivienne has been bred for this life since day one.

You're nothing compared to her!" The hard plastic slammed into my forehead. A sharp throb bloomed over my eyebrow.

On pure instinct, my hand shot up, catching the bottle as it bounced off my skull. I turned the label toward the light. Eszopiclone. Sleeping pills.

Chapter 4 Warren rubbed his temples. "Enough." He stepped in, attempting to shut down the circus. "Wren, apologize to Vivienne.

We will figure out the cover story later—" His voice abruptly cut off. His eyes blew wide open, fixated on the floor. The empty plastic bottle sat by my bare feet. My cheeks bulged.

A dry, chalky mass of blue pills completely packed my mouth. They were cornering me. My real parents never would have let them back me into a corner like this.

A piercing shriek ripped from Vivienne's throat. Warren lunged across the rug.

He grabbed the back of my neck, his thick fingers immediately shoving past my lips, digging toward the back of my throat. Pierce was right beside him.

He pried my jaw open, his face twisted in panic and fury. "Are you out of your mind?

You're doing this just to mess with Vivienne?" Without water, the chalky blue paste just coated the roof of my mouth. It wouldn't go down.

Someone jammed something hard—a wooden chopstick—deep into my esophagus. My stomach heaved. Acid and blue foam erupted past my lips, splattering all over the hardwood.

I slumped against the baseboard, gasping for air. Why was it so damn hard to just stop existing? They locked me up. A rotation of doctors came in to ask pointless questions.

I ignored them, tearing the room apart for anything sharp. Nothing. They had even lined the walls with dense acoustic foam.

I couldn't even crack my skull open if I took a running start. Severe clinical depression. That was the official label. It earned me a 24/7 watch.

They shoved pills down my throat every morning. The meds were heavy. They turned my blood to sludge and wrapped my brain in thick cotton.

The faces of my dead families started to blur. Sunlight would stream through the barred window, and a blink later, the room would be pitch black. Tonight, they missed a dose.

The heavy fog in my head began to thin out. I lay staring at the dark ceiling, my mind spinning. Low voices bled through the heavy oak door. Vivienne. And Pierce.

My name slipped through the crack in the doorframe. A fresh wave of irritation spiked in my chest. The nurse assigned to the night shift was gone.

I kicked off the blankets, dragging my bare feet across the carpet to tell them to screw off.

With every step, the muffled argument sharpened into crystal clear words. "Mom, Dad, if I just pack up and move out…" Vivienne’s voice wavered. "Absolutely not," Pierce cut her off instantly.

I could practically see him standing between her and our parents, playing the human shield. "You're not moving into some random apartment by yourself.

It's not safe." He let out a harsh scoff. "Mom, Dad, are you feeling guilty now? Don't forget the original plan." "We tracked Wren down years ago.

We literally let other people foster her just so Vivienne wouldn't have to deal with the stress." My feet stopped dead on the carpet.

The English language suddenly sounded like pure static. "If you asked me, we should have just cut those hicks a massive check and let them keep her forever," Pierce continued. "But no." "You two were obsessed with the fact that she was your 'blood.' You were paranoid she'd get too attached to those trailer park families and turn her back on you." A heavy pause. "So you orchestrated the accidents.

You killed her foster parents just to cycle her into new homes." I stopped breathing. "Every single time she built a bond, you wiped them out and reset the board.

You rigged her SATs so she couldn't leave the state for college.

She started killing it at her corporate job, so you framed her and got her blacklisted from the entire industry." Pierce's voice rose, vibrating with frustration. "She's a suicidal wreck because of you!

You already chose Vivienne!" "What is the point of pretending to care about her now? You can't have it both ways—" "Shut your mouth!" Miriam snapped.

Chapter 5 "She is our daughter!" Miriam's voice cracked like a whip. "I paid those people to keep her fed, not to let her get attached to a bunch of bluecollar trash!" "They got exactly what they deserved.

How dare they claim they loved her like their own? They didn't have the right!" "She suffered enough. I am going to make it up to her.

Now, both of you, shut your mouths!" I stood paralyzed behind the oak door. Their footsteps faded down the hall. Pierce's words kept echoing against my skull.

They found me years ago. They just left me out there so Vivienne wouldn't feel threatened. All this time, I thought I was just cursed.

I thought I was born under a bad sign, doomed to watch my families die, to fail my exams, to get blacklisted at my job.

The way my foster parents used to look at me, like they wanted to warn me about something—it all made sense now. Pierce laid it out perfectly.

Every tragedy in my life was a calculated hit. So what did that make me? A pawn on their chessboard. The door handle clicked. Vivienne slipped into my room.

A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face. "Hear everything clearly?" She tilted her head. "Did you really think you mattered?

Mom and Dad kept you locked out for over two decades, all for me." She stepped closer, inspecting her manicured nails. "The biological daughter, treated like a dirty little secret." She leaned in. "Wren, you are excess baggage.

Nobody loves you. Nobody can love you." "Just go die already. I won't be able to sleep until you do." My entire body started to vibrate.

My teeth clicked together so hard my jaw ached. Something cold and heavy slid into my palm.

A paring knife. "I gave the secondfloor staff the night off." She patted my shoulder. "Go do what you need to do.

Don't worry, I'll make sure they clean up your body tomorrow." She spun on her heel and practically skipped out the door.

The second the latch clicked shut, the shaking stopped entirely. A terrifying, icecold clarity washed over me. I didn't drag the blade across my wrists like Vivienne wanted.

I gripped the wooden handle tight, walked straight down the hall, and kicked open Pierce's bedroom door. "Oh, look who it is.

The walking curse." Pierce didn't even look up from his phone at first. Then his eyes caught the glint of steel in my hand.

He let out a dry, mocking laugh. "What, gonna threaten to off yourself again?" How could someone slaughter three families and still smile like that?

I stared at his smug, entitled face. The corners of my mouth curled up. I smiled right back. Then I lunged. Schlick.

The sixinch blade buried itself directly into the center of his chest. The arrogance melted off his face. His pupils dilated to the edges of his irises.

It was the best he had looked all day. I twisted my wrist, trying to force the steel deeper, but a violent shove sent me stumbling backward. "Help!

Somebody help me!" Pierce collapsed onto the carpet. He was only twenty. The reality of his own blood staining his designer shirt broke him completely.

He screamed at the top of his lungs. But Vivienne had done her job perfectly. The second floor was a ghost town. I caught my balance.

My eyes locked onto the black handle sticking out of his chest. I threw my weight forward, lunging for the knife. The adrenaline of impending death finally kicked in.

Survival instinct hijacked his brain. Both of his hands clamped around my wrists like iron vises, stopping my fingers inches from the handle. I didn't hesitate.

I leaned down and sank my teeth straight into his forearm. He screamed, ripping his arm back to protect his chest. The second his grip broke, my hand snatched the handle.

I ripped it free and drove it straight into his gut. Footsteps finally thundered up the stairs. The firstfloor security and Warren burst into the room.

Three heavy sets of hands slammed onto my shoulders, forcing my knees hard into the floorboards